


All the time in the world

by ProdigyBlood



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Pining, Poor Crowley, they really are hopeless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 12:11:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19463716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProdigyBlood/pseuds/ProdigyBlood
Summary: “I saw Anathema last week,” Crowley said suddenly. “She asked about you.” Actually, she’d asked aboutthem.When Crowley had told her it wasn’t like that between them she’d looked rather surprised.‘But you’re in love with him,’ she had said. Crowley didn’t need her to tell him that, he was quite aware. It was irritating that a witch who barely knew him could see it but the angel who had known him for six thousand years couldn’t…





	All the time in the world

**Author's Note:**

> I can't stop writing plotless fics for these adorable ineffable husbands. I think I have a problem...
> 
> Also, Crowley and Anathema are friends and hang out. Fight me.

It didn’t really matter what Aziraphale did, it made Crowley weak at the knees. The angel could probably belch [1] and the demon would find it adorable. He was simply smitten and everybody had noticed. 

Everybody, it seemed, except for the angel himself. 

Aziraphale had always been a bit oblivious when it came to matters of the heart, especially his own. It had taken him long enough to realise and accept that he and Crowley were friends after all. 

[1] Not that an angel ever would, mind. 

Crowley found it equal parts adorable and frustrating how oblivious Aziraphale was. Deep down though, there was a part of him – a really insecure part that he tried to pretend didn’t exist – that wondered whether the angel wasn’t actually oblivious at all. Perhaps, he wondered, Aziraphale knew exactly how he felt and pretended to not notice in order to let the demon down gently. After all, why _would_ he feel the same? Aziraphale was an ethereal being, holier than holy and Crowley was, well… Crowley. He was fallen; a despicable snake of temptation. He tried to keep his shades on around the angel at all times just to hide those yellow, serpent eyes that revealed his true nature.

It was enough that Aziraphale considered him a friend. The rest didn’t matter. Crowley had managed his feelings for six thousand years, he could continue to do so. Except – every time Aziraphale smiled (which he did often) Crowley felt like he might spontaneously combust from adorableness overload.

He was a demon for Go- Sa- somebodies sake!! He wasn’t meant to find things adorable. He’d been on Earth for too long. He’d gone native. He shuddered and stuck out his tongue at the very thought.

“Are you quite alright, dear chap?” Aziraphale asked, having caught the reaction.

“Splendid,” Crowley said, biting back the majority of the sarcasm. Sarcasm was another thing that mostly went over Aziraphale’s head, anyway.

The answer seemed to satisfy the angel, who went back to reading his book. Once he was properly enthralled in its pages, Crowley went back to watching him.

There was nothing particularly remarkable about the angel in the grand scheme of things. He wasn’t especially good looking. Over the course of the past few hundred years, he’d even gained some pudge around the edges from his great love of food. Then there was the fact that he could be insufferable sometimes, his morally good soul getting in the way of the bastard Crowley knew he was underneath. He always had to do what was right for other people even if it meant things weren’t going to go his way. Well, _most_ of the time anyway. When books were involved, Aziraphale allowed a little selfishness. 

Crowley couldn’t fathom it. He, himself, did what was best for number one. Well… that wasn’t strictly true. He often did stupid things for Aziraphale’s sake. Because despite how annoying the angel's good nature was, Crowley wouldn’t want him any other way.

That, in which, lay the problem. Even Aziraphale’s flaws made the demon love him more. Because on Aziraphale, they weren’t flaws. At least, not in Crowley’s eyes. 

“Are you sure you’re alright, dear?” Aziraphale asked again. “Only, you’ve been staring at me for rather a while now.” 

Crowley hadn’t thought he’d noticed. He looked down quickly. “Just bored, is all,” he said as casually as he could. 

“I mean, you could go home,” Aziraphale pointed out. “Don’t you have something better to do?” 

“Like what?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. Tempting people over to the dark side?” 

“Don’t do much of that these days,” Crowley said, shrugging. He and the other occupants of Hell were hardly on speaking terms, Crowley didn’t see why he should do them any favours by performing evil deeds. 

“What _do_ you do these days?” Aziraphale asked, closing his book and placing it on his lap. 

“Got a few new plants,” Crowley said. 

“Oh, those poor things.” 

Crowley ignored him. “I was thinking about getting back into the TV business. They’re making some damn good shows these days, the humans. Did you see Chernobyl?” 

“Wasn’t Chernobyl one of yours?” Aziraphale asked thoughtfully. 

“Nah, bit too evil for me. Children died, you know I don’t endorse the death of children. Was one of the four bikers I think.” 

“Jolly awful stuff,” Aziraphale said with a shudder. “They made a television show about it?” 

“You know humans. Nothing makes good entertainment like a great real-life tragedy. ‘Member the Titanic?”

“Of course. Thought I was going to freeze to death. That one _was_ your fault.” 

“Oi! I didn’t sink it,” Crowley protested. 

“No,” Aziraphale agreed. “As I recall you simply persuaded them not to include more lifeboats.”

“Well, I didn’t really think it would sink, did I?” 

Aziraphale sighed and shook his head. “You were just doing your job, my dear. We’ve both done terrible things for our sides.”

“Good job we’re on our own side now then, isn’t it?”

“Indeed.”

The angel agreeing with him was a surprise. He hadn’t really thought to ask how the angel felt since Heaven had all but cast him out. Crowley had just assumed Aziraphale would be miserable about it, lost and hoping that somebody would eventually show up and forgive him for it all.

Maybe Aziraphale had gone native, too. 

“Do you never do any evil doings any more?” Aziraphale asked curiously. 

“I wouldn’t say never,” Crowley said. Some of it was great fun, after all, and a demon had to get his kicks somewhere. Just last week Anathema had dragged him into a Waterstones and, while he’d been waiting for her, he’d switched several sleeves between books. Also, after his successes with The Babadook[2] in 2017, he’d once more hacked Netflix to change some of the genres. Pretty soon, he was sure, people would be questioning why films such as The Notebook were showing as ‘recommended for you in Horror’. 

“Well, I can’t say I approve,” Aziraphale said. Of course, he didn’t. He wouldn’t be Aziraphale if he did. 

[2] Crowley had been rather intoxicated at the time and had thought it was hilarious. It had gone over rather well, too, though he didn’t like that Netflix got the credit for his genius. 

“What about you?” Crowley asked. “Doing much good these days?” 

Blue eyes met yellow and Crowley felt his breath hitch. He hated what the angel did to him, hated it more passionately than he’d ever hated anything. Loved it, too. 

“There’s still time,” Aziraphale said. Crowley smiled at that. 

“I do believe you’ve become selfish, angel.” 

Aziraphale scoffed indignantly, his protests falling short. There was nothing wrong with taking some time to enjoy the finer things in life. He shouldn’t have to explain himself to Crowley. He went to return his attention to his book.

“I saw Anathema last week,” Crowley said suddenly.

Aziraphale looked up from the book again. “I didn’t think you liked her.”

“She’s alright.”

“Hm. How is she?”

“Good. Happy. She and Newt are getting married."  


“Oh, how wonderful.” A genuine smile spread across the angel's face and once more Crowley felt his heart fall into a tizzy.

“She asked about you.” Actually, she’d asked about _them._ When Crowley had told her it wasn’t like that between them she’d looked rather surprised. 

‘But you’re in love with him,’ she had said. Crowley didn’t need her to tell him that, he was quite aware. It was irritating that a witch who barely knew him could see it but the angel who had known him for six thousand years couldn’t…

“How lovely. So kind of her. We should all go for tea.”

Crowley just hummed in answer, his mind preoccupied in wondering whether it would be classed as a double date. The witch had suggested the same thing, after all, and the word she had used was definitely ‘double date’.

“Did she say anything about Adam?” Aziraphale questioned in a way that almost seemed as if he wanted to ask something else. It was probably Crowley's imagination. It wasn’t as if Aziraphale was shy with asking nosy questions after all. 

“He has an aura now. She thinks he’s completely human like he willed the Antichrist away or some jazz.”

“Oh good.” The angel looked at him thoughtfully. “Weird you having friends.”

“Shut up. I don’t have friends.” There was a pause then, “What’s weird about it?”

“Well, it’s always just been… us.”

Was Aziraphale worried? Jealous, perhaps? Crowley couldn’t help the spark of hope that flared within him. “That’s not going to change, angel. Besides, the problem with having human friends is they go and die on you in a blink of an eye.”

“Oh don’t say that. That’s horrible.” The blond shivered.

“I didn’t say I want anyone dead,” Crowley argued. “Just that their lives are pathetically short. They all die and we keep on living.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing we have each other,” Aziraphale decided, giving Crowley a small smile that set lose butterflies in his stomach.

“Yup. I guess so.”

_Come on, Crowley now’s your chance. Tell him._

“Hey, Aziraphale?”

“Hm?”

“…” He couldn’t do it. He was a damn coward is what he was. “What do you want to eat tonight? Anything you fancy, my treat.”

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up and Crowley told himself that was enough. It _had_ to be enough.

“You know, I haven’t had sushi since before the almost-apocalypse.”

“Sushi it is! Good job the Kraken has sunk back into the dark depths of the ocean, really.”

They’d walked to the restaurant and it was dark when they left. The streets were quiet enough that it was a peaceful walk. The angel and demon stepped side by side, as close as they could without actually touching. Crowley couldn’t help but think how easy it would be to just reach out and twine their fingers together.

Aziraphale had seemed like he wanted to say something all night. He’d yet to attempt it and Crowley hadn’t pressured. After all, he was very good at giving the angel space to go at his own speed. A pro, one might say.

Finally, in a meek voice, he asked, “Do you think it’s bad?”

“Can’t read your mind, angel. Do I think what’s bad?”

Aziraphale swallowed noisily, his hands fidgeting before him as they walked. “That I don’t miss it.”

“Miss what? Working for Heaven?”

“Yes. That’s terrible, isn’t it? I’m an awful person.”

Crowley stopped walking, grabbing Aziraphale’s arm to stop him too. “Angel,” he said, all serious, “you’re too good for Heaven. For the supposed ‘good side’ they’re a bunch of bastards. Did I tell you I was so tempted to punch Gabriel that time we swapped bodies?”

Aziraphale gave a small chuckle. “You might have mentioned it.”

“If it wouldn’t have put you in danger I have beaten him into next week,” Crowley grumbled, remembering the smug archangel and his ‘Now shut your stupid mouth and die’ comment that had made the demon’s blood boil.

“Not that he wouldn’t have deserved it but I’m rather glad you didn’t, my dear. Self-restraint on both our parts is how we get to be here, now. Together.”

The angel’s gaze dropped and Crowley followed it to see he was still holding onto Aziraphale’s arm. He should let go, really, but he didn’t want to.

Quietly, _nervously_ , he asked, “And if you could do it all over again?”

“I would still choose you, my dear,” Aziraphale said.

There went the butterflies in Crowley’s stomach again. Seriously, how the fuck did they even get in there?

“I didn’t mention earlier…” Aziraphale started. “To be honest, I was hoping you’d say something so I didn’t need too.”

“Yes?” Was it his imagination, or did Crowley’s voice crack a little?

“Madam Tracey phones me, you see. I suppose you can’t not form a bond with someone that you’ve shared a body with after all. She said something peculiar to me. Something I was wondering whether you would say Anathema said, too.”

“Oh… and what’s that?” Yeah, his voice was definitely coming out squeaky. Had he swallowed a mouse as well as those damn butterflies?

“Well, she seemed to think that we… that you and I… That we’re married.”

Crowley subconsciously gripped Aziraphale’s arm tighter. He swallowed loudly. “No, Anathema didn’t think we were married,” he managed to croak.

“Oh.”

“She thought we were together though.”

“And are we?”

The demon’s jaw dropped. What sort of question was that? Surely Aziraphale knew the answer to that? Surely, in his eyes, it was a hard no. They might not have a side anymore, but they were still angel and demon. The angel never made any indication that he liked Crowley either… did he? Crowley racked his mind for any suggestion otherwise.

“Only, it occurred to me that we kind of are,” Aziraphale continued when Crowley didn’t speak. “Not married, not yet, but – ”

“Not yet?” Crowley croaked before the angel could continue.

“Oh my dear, I’m sorry. Am I, what’s the expression? Barking up the wrong tree? Only, during dinner, I was thinking a lot about it. That’s what couple’s do, isn’t it? Go out to restaurants for dates. Spend all their free time together. Enjoy one another’s company more than anyone else’s.”

Was it possible Aziraphale wasn’t quite as oblivious as Crowley had believed? Had he been wrong in all his reasons for silently pining these past six thousand years rather than biting the bullet and confessing?

“Oh dear, have I broken you?”

Crowley realised he was still staring, mouth still agape, still clutching his angel's arm. He didn’t let go of Aziraphale but he closed his mouth. Then promptly opened it again to speak. “Do you want to be a couple?”

“Would much change between us?”

“It wouldn’t have to?” Crowley didn’t sweat, so why did he feel like he was melting into a puddle right now?

Aziraphale thought about it for a moment. “Could we try things human couples do?”

Yup, he definitely felt like he was just a pair of eyeballs in a mess of goo on the floor. “Uh…”

“I’d rather like to hold your hand,” Aziraphale said. “If you don’t mind?”

Crowley seemed incapable of speaking. Somehow, he managed to jerk his head in a nod. Aziraphale smiled and reached up to Crowley’s hand on his arm. He had to pry the fingers off his jacket but, once they were free, he didn’t release them. Instead, he threaded them between his own and squeezed gently. The angel smiled, as if thoroughly pleased with himself.

“Yes,” he said. “I rather like this.” He looked at Crowley and his gaze softened. “Come on, my darling, let’s get you home and get some warm tea into you. You look rather shell shocked.” He began walking, gently tugging on Crowley’s hand until the demon followed him obediently back to the book shop.

Even while he unlocked and guided them inside, he didn’t once let go of Crowley’s hand. The demon still hadn’t found any coherent words to say.

“You know,” the angel mused as he shut and locked the bookshop door behind them. “I also wanted to try kissing, but I think that might have to wait for another day. It all seems a bit much for you, my dear.”

Crowley whimpered.

He’d longed for this day for six thousand years. Thought it would never come because Aziraphale was clueless and clearly didn’t love him back. Yet now he’d been proven wrong in the most casual way ever and he was frozen, unable to do anything but stare in disbelief at the angel in front of him.

They were still holding hands. He was _holding_ Aziraphale’s _hand_.

Crowley had gone so slow for so many years, the occasional comment or loving glance, a kind gesture he wouldn’t do for anybody else. He’d done all this because he didn’t want to frighten his angel away, his angel who had once said that he ‘went too fast’.

“It’s okay, dear,” Aziraphale said softly. “We can take it slow. Move at a pace you’re comfortable with.”

Crowley was pretty certain he died then, his soul[3] floating away like a wisp of smoke.

_We can take it slow. Move at a pace you’re comfortable with._

Fuck. When did this happen?

[3] if demons, indeed, had souls, that was. 

Crowley wasn’t aware of Aziraphale letting go of his hand, in a daze as he were. Behind his glasses, his eyes were fixed on the floor.

“I’d be okay with trying kissing,” he mumbled.

There was no answer.

He looked up.

Aziraphale was gone.

“Hm? What was that, dear?” A voice called from a different room. Aziraphale poked his head around the corner, holding up a mug which he cheerily pointed to and mouthed ‘making tea’.

Crowley couldn’t help it. He laughed.

They really were just as hopeless as each other.

But it was okay. They had all the time in the world to figure it out.

They’d get there eventually.

…Wouldn’t they?


End file.
